Stupid Boy ; George Miller

;remember;

10:36 AM

I open my eyes wearily, the sunlight burning them as I sit up. I look around, growing more alarmed as I realise I'm not in my own bedroom. Suddenly, I hear a clattering sound, followed by a loud groan, come from another room. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up, quietly walking towards the source of the noise. I round a corner, peeking past it to see George standing at the stove, flipping an egg in a frying pan. Breathing a sigh of relief, I step out from the corner and lean against the wall near him. I let a small laugh escape from my lips, causing George to jump and swivel around.

"Corinne, hey." George says, a grin slowly forming on his face as he looks at me. He quickly turns back to the stove, putting the egg onto a plate He grabs a fork, then turns back around to face me, holding out the small plate.

I take the plate, looking down at it, then back up at George. "George, why did I wake up in your bed? What happened last night?" I rush my words, fearing the answer.

George looks at me, raising an eyebrow before a look of realization washes over his face. "Oh my god, no. We didn't do anything, Corinne. You fell asleep at like 7 and I felt bad waking you up so I let you sleep in my bed. I slept on the couch." He says, nodding past the counter toward the living room, where the couch is a mess of blankets and a pillow.

I breathe a sigh of relief and George hands me a mug of coffee, his hand brushing against mine. I thank him quietly and mull over my thoughts before speaking again. "George, would it be alright if I hung around for  awhile today? I'm kind of dreading unpacking the rest of my things." I say, gripping the mug and plate tightly.

"If you stop calling me George, yeah." He replies, chuckling lightly.

I roll my eyes, setting the plate and mug on the countertop. "Fine, Joji." I say, putting emphasis on the nickname. He smiles contently, nodding his head with approval at the name.

"Better. Maybe with less attitude next time, though." He says, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. George turns the stove off, setting the pan in the sink and walking past me. "I have to edit some stuff. I'll be back in like an hour."

"I thought you stopped doing the Frank stuff." I inquire casually, picking the coffee back up and following him, taking a sip from the mug.

"I did." He replies simply. Okay, George.

"Then what are you editing?"

"Music." He says. He pushes open the door to his room and grabs his Mac from the nearby dresser, then sits on the bed.

"What kind of music?" I ask, growing aware that I am now hovering directly over him.

Do I know my questions are probably annoying him? Of course. Do I care? Of course not.

"Will you stop asking me questions if I show you?"

"Clearly."

George grabs me gently by the wrist, pulling me onto the bed next to him. He plugs his earbuds into the jack, putting one in his ear and handing me the other one. I put it in my ear, and he plays a file labelled yousuck.mp3.

After about two minutes, the song ends and I pull the earbud out, looking at him. He looks at me from the side of his eye, a sheepish smile on his lips. "Is it alright? I mean, I still have to work on it a lot." George says, rambling. "And this is just a rough cut so if it's not good then that's fine because I can keep making changes-"

"George, shut up. It's fine." I cut him off, shaking my head. "It's beautiful."

I'd forgotten that he could sing. I had forgotten that his voice was so beautiful, both when he spoke and when he sang.

George sighs in relief, nodding his head. "I said to stop calling me George." He says quietly.

I laugh and lay my head on his shoulder as he plays another file, this one labelled unsavedinfo.mp3.

I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed being around him.

I'd forgotten how much he meant to me.

I think I'm starting to remember now, though.

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Song - you suck charlie (Joji)